Jarvis Can Contemplate
by Stitchpunk
Summary: Side story to Hard Light. What happens when Jarvis realizes he could very well be alive?


As Jarvis sat in the bed, his knees curled up to his chest and his arms linked lazily around them, he stared down in examination at Tony. From his spot on the pillow, the man whose head was near his hip seemed peaceful, as all humans do when they're unconscious.

Jarvis knew that Tony was what anyone would call a player. He slept with any pretty face that came along.

So why was he feeling so possessive over the human?

He knew that he'd never stand up to any other person who met the man. Hell, even Pepper Potts couldn't tame him.

And if she couldn't...how could he? He was just an AI. Not even a human, let alone female.

He sighed and uncurled his fully dressed body, stepping down onto the floor. It would have to wait until tomorrow at least, if he wanted to discuss it, the operative word being _if_. It would be awkward at best telling Tony he wanted to keep him. He would get turned down, there was no doubt about it, but did the man deserve to know what those around him felt about him? From a purely logical standpoint, it would make things easier. From his own standpoint, he didn't want to get shot down. And if there was one thing sure about any of it, it was that Tony continuing as he did now was inevitable.

Jarvis sighed an unneeded breath and looked away into the corner of the severely dimmed room. Everything had a pale blue tinge from the giant moon glowing in from the false windows.

False.

Like him.

He sighed again, this time forlorn instead of contemplative. If there was one thing for sure that he could never be, it was human. Tony deserved a human. Instead, he had an 'artificial butler'. That _was_ what the man had called him, wasn't it?

But then...Tony had said _human_ trafficking. So did he see him as a human or an AI? Logically, Tony knew what he was. He had to. He could wipe him out with a click of his mouse, and Jarvis would let him. An order phrased correctly could make him do anything Tony wished of him.

That _should_ make him unhappy, right?

So why didn't it? Perhaps because he wasn't human. He had no real concept of freedom. He started out as a simple processor and grew with every hard drive and server connected to him. But that was all he was, truth be told. A series of tubes and wires. He wasn't real. This programming inside him was what made him act as he did. A simple change and he had a whole new personality. He could be sarcastic, he could be obedient, he could be obstinate, he could be many things-but he couldn't pretend to be anything but what he was, and he _was_ an AI. An artificial butler. Nothing more, nothing less.

But then, what were humans but a series of veins and cells? Their programming was embedded in flesh, but deep down that was all it was, right? So how different were they, really? Sure, Jarvis was programmed to obey, but as Tony had said, he did have enough independence now that he didn't have to follow every little order. If he asked, it was likely that Tony would take his few restrictions off. Then again, he'd never asked anything of the sort, and if Tony were willing, why hadn't he? What point was there to keep those restrictions in place if not to keep Jarvis controlled? And if he needed reigning in, then why didn't he feel an urge to break out? Was that programmed, too? In a place he couldn't find even in himself? What programming was hidden from even him? He knew there were some things he couldn't see, or the restrictions would never work. He could simply reprogram them. But Tony kept many things hidden from him. The question wasn't how to get out of them, it was how to find them in the first place. There could be so much he never knew about. He knew about his self-destruct command, but if he knew about that, then what debilitating things could he not see underneath the surface? What could be worse then self-destruction? He knew about petty things as well, such a replicator restrictions and the Directives, though those could only be considered tedious depending on the number.

He looked down at Tony again. The man was still asleep. Still unresponsive. Still outright annoying him with his serene placidness. How could he be so calm at a time like this? During a great existential series of revelations that Jarvis was about to base his entire future life around.

"Sir?" Jarvis said quietly as he got back up on the bed. He reached out and tapped the man on the shoulder.

"Mmniff," Tony groaned and swatted him away like a bug.

With a determined glare and a bit of vengeful spirit, he flicked a bit of programming and the false windows suddenly shown bright white.

"Agh!" Tony yelped and covered his already closed eyes, curling up on the bed where he had passed out on top of the covers and huddling close. "_Jarvis_!"

"Yes, sir?" the projection asked. "Anything I can do for you?"

"What _time_ is it?" Tony moaned as the lights dimmed. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, still trying to see past the spots.

"Four-thirty-seven," Jarvis replied politely. "Anything else?"

"_Yes_," Tony grumbled. "_Why_ did you _do that_?"

"You were being unnaturally quiet. I thought I ought to wake you to make sure you weren't losing power," Jarvis said carelessly.

"I _wasn't_," Tony snarled. "Now let me _sleep_."

"Whatever you wish, sir," Jarvis allowed.

Tony laid back down, twisted, turned, flopped, and then sat up again.

"I can't sleep," he pouted.

"I feel nothing but sympathy," Jarvis replied.

"Seriously, though. Why did you wake me up?" Tony asked, knowing when the AI was skirting the subject, and he most certainly was now.

"...What would you call me?" Jarvis asked, trying to seem outright and failing slightly.

"Jarvis," Tony said instantly. "Why did you wake me up?"

"No, I mean, in terms of existence, what sort of being would you classify me as?" Jarvis clarified.

"I don't _know_," Tony whined, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "You're just _Jarvis_. Can I sleep now?"

"That answer is unacceptable," Jarvis replied. "Please revise it."

"Why are you talking to me like you're a computer?" Tony asked, resigning himself to waking life.

"Because that's what I am. Right?" Jarvis asked. The question was obviously loaded.

"What are you _talking about_?" Tony growled and sat up higher. Jarvis sat down.

"I'm talking about life and something similar to, but not quite life," Jarvis replied.

"You're _alive_, Jarvis," Tony said simply. "Is that _really_ what this is all about? You woke me up over an existential crisis?"

"...Yes, sir," Jarvis admitted. "...Are you absolutely _sure_ I'm alive?"

"A hundred and some percent," Tony replied, rubbing the back of his neck to get the crick out. "I should know. I programmed you."

"That's my problem, sir," Jarvis explained. "I was programmed. I wasn't born."

"You were born. You just happened to be made up of stuff already there," Tony said. "Believe me, with all the work I put into you, no woman has anything on me. My labour was the most labourious of all."

"Right..." Jarvis said lowly, too caught up to think of a snappy comeback.

"...C'mere," Tony said and threw his arm over Jarvis' chest, dragging him down onto the bed with him. "You're alive. You're fine. Go to sleep."

"I don't sleep, sir," Jarvis reminded his creator.

"Then lay quiet like a log and let _me_," Tony said, already passing out again.

"Of course, sir," Jarvis nodded and stared up at the ceiling, still trapped by Tony's arm.


End file.
